Dancing Around The Truth
by purplepagoda
Summary: She breaks into his apartment, in the middle of the night. She goes there to tell him the truth. To confront him but instead, they dance around the truth. Will they ever be able to say it out loud? She'll make him choose, this time. Before it's too late.
1. Breaking And Entering

She picks the locks. _Simple pin and tumbler design_, she thinks to herself. She carefully opens the door. She tiptoes inside, and closes, and locks the door behind her. She slips her tools into the pocket of her pants. She tiptoes past the kitchen, through the living room, towards the bedroom. The door is wide open. She holds her breath, and tiptoes into the room.

It was easy for her. She was used to it. She had years, and years of experience. She looks at the bed, against the wall, in the dark. Another skill she had learned, seeing in the dark. These skills were very important when you were trying to be covert. When you were on a mission, trying to be undetected, it was important to carefully plan things out. She hovers near the bed. This, however, was not mission. This was real life.

She was not trying to be sneaky, or even creepy, just certain. She had to be certain, before she made her move. It wasn't as if she was going to suffocate him in his sleep. She could, he was a sound sleeper, but she did not have any ill-will towards him. She knew that he had to make her presence known. She couldn't stand in his room, surrounded by silence, and darkness, all night. This couldn't wait until morning.

It had waited long enough. It had festered inside of her, for so long, that she could no longer control it. She had a hard time controlling herself, when she was around him. Each day that past, was more unbearable than the last. It was time to end this. It was time to end this dance. Five years, they had been dancing around. Around each other, around the truth. It wasn't so bad when there were other around, others to fill up the space between them.

The problem was, there wasn't always someone between them. They were alone, together, most of the time. The weight of things unsaid, was crushing them. She could only picture what they looked like. Dancing around, on opposite sides of the room, when they should be dancing together. The truth neither of them wanted to admit was driving a wedge between them. She could feel it. He could feel it too. They were always dancing, to the same song, to the same beat.

They could just never get it right. Maybe because they had never tried. They tried so hard to ignore it. They tried to pretend everything was normal. They wouldn't admit that they weren't normal, together they were something extraordinary. It was a hard pill to swallow. It was a difficult line to cross. They had stayed behind the line for so long. They had come close to crossing it, too many times.

Now they were going opposite directions, and they both knew, it would end the same way. It would end the same way it always did. It would end. They would get their hearts broken. Then it would just be the two of them, again. The two of them, leading separate lives, when they just wanted to be together. He was right, sometimes the heart wants, what the heart wants. The harder they fought it, the more obvious it was. She was too tired to fight it anymore.

She clears her throat, "You know I could kill you in your sleep," she tells him, knowing the sound of her voice will wake him up.

"You could, but you won't."

"Not tonight."

He looks at the alarm clock, on the bedside stand, "It's 0238, what are you doing here? Better yet, how did you get in here?"

"I picked the lock."

"Do you have no boundaries?"

"I do."

"Then what are you doing, breaking into my apartment, in the middle of the night?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"You could have called."

"I could have done a lot of things, but I didn't."

"Why are you here?"

"Because it was not a conversation that I wanted to have on the phone."

"You're here, now, so talk."

"My apartment is too quiet."

"It gives you too much time to think?"

"And it's empty," she adds.

"You have made your choices."

"Maybe I made the wrong ones."

"Is this you telling me that you have cold feet? Cold feet about a box full of empty promises, and a commitment, that will probably never be whole-hearted?"

"That was mean."

"That was the truth."

"As long as we're on the truth, let's talk about her."

"What about her?"

"I hate her."

"You've made that very clear."

"She's not right for you. She would have been ok, for the thirty year old version of you, but you are not thirty, anymore."

"What are you saying?"

"She will never be able to commit to you, no matter how long you wait."

"I know that."

"Then why are you with her?"

"Why are you with him? Why are you with a man, that is like the man you hate?"

"What are you talking about?"

"He's more like your father than anyone you've ever been with."

"He is not."

"He's charming, but manipulative. He talks out of both sides of his mouth. He offers you things that he knows he can't give you, to gain your trust. Just when you think that things have changed, he leaves. He promises he's coming back. He promises it's the last time. You know better, at least I hope that you do."

"You are certainly being critical, tonight."

"You're the one who showed up in my room, in the middle of the night. How long did you stand there, watching me sleep, before you woke me up?"

"Does it matter?"

"What is really on your mind? Are you ever going to tell me?"

"No, because you already know."

"But you never say it."

"I shouldn't have to."

"Neither should I."

"It does not work that way. Things will not just happen, on their own."

"I hate when you do this. I hate when you start things, and don't finish them. You never finish the things that you start."

"That isn't true. I didn't start this."

"I didn't start this," she counters.

"Someone started it."

"No, no one has started it, yet. No one will start it. We run into the line of fire, on a daily basis. We chase down monsters, every single day. We face our fears. Yet, somehow we never face this. Why is that?"

"Some things are better left unsaid."

"You cannot leave things unsaid forever."

"You can't decide to just blurt them out, one day, either."

"Something has to change. I am tired of pretending. I am tired of fighting. I am tired."

"You have to be the change you want to see in the world."

"I came to you," she points out, "I made the first move, now it is your move."

"I decline to make a move."

"This drives me crazy. Sometimes talking to you, is like talking to a wall. It is just as difficult, and even less productive."

"We should get some sleep, we have an early day tomorrow."

"With our luck it will be an early morning, and a late night."

He smiles, "With lots of coffee in between."

"I don't think you understand," she insists.

"What don't I understand?"

"Make up your mind. In, or out. Enough in between. Decide, or I am done."

"Done? Done with what?"

"Being your partner."

"You can't be serious."

"I am."

"Where would you go? Who would be your partner?"

"McGee."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because then no one will have my back. You'll have his back, and I'll get shot."

"No, you won't."

"If someone is aiming for me, and McGee, you'll take the person aiming for McGee out first, then I'll be dead. I need you to have my back."

"That is not enough, not anymore."


	2. Decide

"This time you have to choose."

"I don't want to choose."

"You can either choose to tell the truth, or keep living a lie."

"Is there a third option?"

"I can suffocate you in your sleep."

"I'll take that one."

"You would rather die, than tell the truth?"

"We dance around the truth so much, that I'm not always certain that we're on the same page."

"How will you know, if you never take the chance?"

"Why now?"

"I think five years is long enough."

"What if I make the wrong choice, and I ruin everything?"

"What if I hadn't shot my brother? What if I had believed him, and let him kill Gibbs?"

"I hate when you argue."

"Why?"

"Because you're always right."

"I am not always right."

"You were right about those hotdogs on Wednesday."

"I am trying to have serious conversations, and you are trying to change the subject?"

"I'm good at that. I'm not good at confronting things."

"There are a lot of things you're not good at, but you do them anyway."

"Like what?"

"Photographing crime scenes. You just randomly snap the camera, getting whatever you get."

"I'm sorry that I am not a good photographer. We can't all be good at everything."

"Are you trying to imply something?"

"Yes, little miss perfect, I am."

"I am not perfect."

"You're pretty close."

"Why do you do this? Why do you always move on to something else?"

"You're not the only one, who is afraid to let someone in too close."

"No, I'm not."

"So what do you think about Jimmy, getting married?"

"Stop changing the subject."

"I'm not going to have this conversation."

"Now, or ever?"

"I don't know. It's not even three o'clock in the morning. I'm not thinking straight."

"When do you ever think straight?"

"Maybe after a couple of cups of coffee, and a jelly doughnut, or two."

"No, that is a sugary haze, of unconnected ramblings, that make sense, only to you."

"They make sense to you, too."

"That's the problem."

"Problem? It's not a problem. It's a good thing. The tension, the weight of things unsaid, it's what makes us such good partners."

"We'll you're about to lose yours."

"You're not going anywhere. You can't leave me."

"I would not attempt to tell me what I can't do. It will end badly."

"A lot of things end badly. Undercover operations."

"Do you always have to bring that up? Get over it."

"I'm talking about mine."

"I know."

"Although, in all fairness yours almost got you killed, too."

"This is obviously going nowhere."

He listens as her footsteps move away from him, towards the door. She stops in the doorway.

"Make up your mind. You have until the end of tomorrow."

"And then what?"

"If you do not decide, I am done."

"You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do. I already have the paperwork filled out."

"I'll see you in the morning."

She leaves the room. She walks through the living room, past the kitchen, to the door. She lets herself out.

He rolls onto his back, and stares up at the ceiling. What was his problem? Why did he have to say that? _"I'll see you in the morning."_? Why couldn't he ever just say what he meant? _"Stay,"_? One word. It was simple. He was just so used to her reading between the lines. He expected her to know things, even when he didn't tell her. How could he make this right? It would kill him, to watch her walk away. She wouldn't show it, but it would eat at her insides, too. Why did they always have to make things so complicated? It could be so easy. Neither of them knew anything about easy, it was just a word, with no relevance to their lives.

She gets in her car, and drives towards her apartment. She turns off the radio. She listens to the voice in her head, instead of trying to drown it out, for once. She knew what he meant. She could hear what his heart was saying, _"Stay.". _That's what he meant. She knew that. She could read between the lines. It took a long time for her to understand, but now it came effortlessly. He could read her, by the look in her eyes. She could tell what he was thinking, by reading between the lines.

She wanted something more. Something that was real. Something that wasn't unsaid. Things that were never said, they had no meaning. She needed meaning. He would wait forever, if she never prompted him. Without her pushing him, he would never go anywhere. He had no motivation to.

He looks at the alarm clock. He would be up for work in just a few hours. She would be up earlier. She always got up between 0500, and 0530. She'd go for a run, and then hit the shower. She'd come into work. Sometimes stopping for coffee, on her way. Although she preferred tea.

The excessive coffee made her feel like she was turning into Gibbs. Maybe a nice cup of tea would makes things right. He could stop, and get her a cup of Jasmine tea, on his way to work, it was her favorite. Who was he kidding? All the tea in the world wasn't going to fix what was broken, between them. It would like be putting a band-aid on a pothole large enough to eat a car. It was something to do, but it didn't help. It didn't make things worse, but it essentially changed nothing.

She peels off her clothes. She stands in front of the dresser, but decides that she's too tired to bother with pajamas. She heads to bed, in only undergarments. He would lose it, if he knew that. Why did she always have to think about him? Every single night, before she went to bed, he was the last face that she saw. She used to have nightmares, about the past. Lately, though, all of her dreams, they were about him. He was always on her mind.

He couldn't let her go. He would be lost without her. Was that a good enough reason? No, the real reason, that was a good enough reason. He needed her. Not just to be his partner, either. He needed her to be in his life, forever. He wanted her to be in his life, forever. For some reason his mind goes to the lyrics of a song. Usually they would go to a scene in a movie, but not tonight. Tonight it was simple.

The lyrics play in his head: _If I made you feel second best, girl I'm sorry I was blind, you were always on my mind, you were always on my mind. Maybe I didn't hold you, all those lonely times, and I guess I never told you, I'm so happy, that you're mine. _

She was his. He needed her to be his. He just wanted her to be his, forever. He didn't want her to belong to anyone else. There had to be a way. There had to be a way, to make her see. He was no good at telling her how he felt. Maybe he would just have to show her. Yes, he could do that. He could show her how he felt.


	3. I Choose You

When he comes into work, she's already arrived. She was always early. He drops his backpack on the ground, and puts some things in the drawer of his desk. He takes a seat.

She watches him, from across the squad room, wondering how long it will take him, to notice. She notices him look at her. She looks away. She types at her keyboard, pretending to focus on something important.

He smiles, when he sees two cups of coffee, and bag on his desk. He looks inside the bag, and finds a jelly doughnut. Under the bag he finds a pile of napkins. He finds a sticky note attached to the bag. _I hope you brought an extra shirt._, is written in her handwriting.

Hours later, he walks into the squad room, with coffee. He finds Ziva sitting at his desk, waiting on him. He places the cup holder in front of her. She shakes her head. The looks she gives him, catches him off guard.

"What are you doing at my desk? You're not snooping again are you?"

"I do not snoop."

"Then what do you call looking through my drawers?"

"Investigating," she replies, sans smile.

"Did you find something?"

She places the item on the surface of his desk. She looks up at him, in confusion, and concern.

"What is this?"

"I am assuming that you already opened it?"

"Yes, I did."

"Not, now Ziva."

"Not, now? Then when," her voice grows louder.

"Not here," he insists.

"Why are you afraid that Gibbs might overhear."

He walks around, to the other side of the desk. He reaches around, her and grabs the box, and slips it into his pocket. He pushes the chair out. "Come with me," he insists. She follows him, into the men's bathroom, which is empty. She stomps the whole way. He locks the door behind them.

"Speak," he insists.

She leans against the counter.

"Why do you have that?"

"It's an engagement ring."

"I know what it is, why do you have it?"

"I was going to give it to someone."

"I can't believe this. I can't believe you."

"I can explain."

"What is there to explain? You have clearly made your decision."

"Yes, I have."

"And it's not me."

He furrows his brow, as she pushes past him, moving towards the door.

"Whoa, come back here," he grabs her arm. She turns around, and looks at him. Her back presses against the door.

"Why? Why should I?"

"You think that this ring is for someone else?"

"I was naive to think that you would choose the right person. I was wrong to think that you would choose me. I poured my heart out, and you chose her."

"No. I haven't. And for the record, what you did last night, that is not pouring your heart out."

"It as close as I have ever come. I guess, maybe that isn't enough for you. I can understand that. I would have thought that at least you would have been considerate enough, not to bring it to work. I didn't need to know. I should go..."

"Go where? You jump to conclusions, and run away, before you even have answers. Are you that afraid of getting hurt?"

"I am just used to getting hurt."

"I am not going to hurt you."

"You might not do it intentionally."

"Can you just shut up, and listen to me for a second?"

"Fine," she crosses her arms over her chest.

"I am not any good at telling people how I feel. You and I, as different as we are, have that in common. I wouldn't know how to tell someone how I felt, even if someone else scripted it for me. It's not natural, at least not, for me. I don't know if I can ever tell you how I feel."

"So you are choosing not to tell me, and to be with someone else? I don't understand."

"When did I ever say that I was going to be with someone else? Did you ever hear me say that? The only person saying that, is you."

"Then why do you have an engagement ring? If you're not going to propose to E.J. why do you have it?"

"I am a lot better at showing people how I feel."

"You're going to show her, with the engagement ring?"

"Why do you keep bringing her up? No one is talking about her."

"Why do you have the ring?"

"It's not for her."

"Then who is it for?"

"It's for you."

"For me?" she shakes her head, completely stunned.

"Yes, it's for you."

"As a token of appreciation?"

"What? No."

"I assume that it to serve some symbolic purpose."

"Yes, it is."

"And I'm sure that it has nothing to do with commitment, because you do not commit, to anyone."

"You're wrong. Sometimes you need to get out of your own head long enough, to listen to other people."

"I am listening."

"No you're not. If you were you would be reacting differently."

"Differently how?"

"I want you to have this ring."

"Why do you want me to have it?"

"You should have it."

"But I don't understand why."

"It is the only way I know, to show you how I feel. I want to show you that I am willing to commit, to you, and only you. I want to give this ring to you," he admits.

"Why?"

"It's an engagement ring. What do you mean why?"

"What is its purpose?"

"Well, it's not a friendship ring. It's an engagement ring, and it has the same purpose as all other engagement rings do."


	4. Kiss Him

"No," she shakes her head.

"No? I haven't even asked you anything, yet."

"I am saving you the trouble," she turns, and unlocks the door.

"Please, don't leave."

"Why not?"

"I don't want you to leave, mad."

"Leave? We are in the bathroom. I am just going to go back, to my desk. If that's ok, with you."

"No, it's not."

"Why not?"

"I know how this ends."

"You're a psychic, now?"

"No, but I know you."

"Tell me, how is this going to end?"

"You walk out this door, you go to your desk. You say nothing to me, for the rest of the day. You fume. You will be angry at me. When it's time to go home, you will walk out of here. You'll walk away, and you won't come back. I know that if you leave, this time, it's for good."

"Sometimes, when something is broken, you cannot fix it. It is easier, to start anew."

"I don't want to start anew. You can't leave."

"Why does that scare you, so much?"

He looks at her. He peers into her deep chocolate eyes. He shakes his head, trying to formulate an intelligible response, before she walks out. Her words ring in his head. They feel like screws, being drilled through his heart. The thought of losing her, makes it hard to breathe. She was the only person, who could ever make him feel this way. She was the only person he couldn't live without. _Why couldn't he just tell her that? It wouldn't be good enough. She wouldn't believe him. _

"I am standing here, asking you, please don't go."

"And I am standing here, asking you, why not? I need a reason. Just one."

"I can't live without you."

"You have said that before."

"It doesn't mean anything, to you?"

"It isn't enough, not anymore."

"I am afraid that nothing I ever say, is going to be good enough."

"Maybe you should try."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Something worth while. I need you to give me a reason. I need something, to tell me, that these past five years, were not a total waste of my time."

He turns away from her, for a moment. She waits, knowing enough, to give him his time. He turns back around. He closes the gap between them. She tries not the react, as he touches her hair. She can feel him breathing, into her hair. He presses his face against her head, just above her right ear. "I want you. I need you," he whispers. He takes a step back, allowing her enough space to breathe. She doesn't respond. He continues, "It would kill me; to watch you, walk away, again. Do you have any idea what that was like for me?"

"What are you talking about?"

"When you left, the first time."

"I didn't care what you felt," she admits.

"And it killed me. I just wanted you back. I just wanted to see you again. Even if you hated me, I wanted to know that you were ok. When I saw you..." he blinks, and clenches his jaw, "I will never forgive myself."

"Forgive yourself? For what?"

"Making you feel like you couldn't trust me. If I had it to over again, I would have done it differently. If I could go back, and protect you from that pain, I would. I thought that he would hurt you. But... he didn't. He didn't have a chance to hurt you. I hurt you. I betrayed you. I caused upheaval in your life. I caused you to question who was loyal to you. I am the reason you went back to Israel. I am the reason..." he trails off, "that you nearly died, in that desert."

She shakes her head, "No. You're not."

"My actions caused you to leave."

"You didn't know what was going to happen."

"It doesn't matter. I had a part in it. Too, big of a part."

"You, are not to blame for what happened."

"Please, stay."

"I don't know if I can."

"I do not, want to go on, with you gone."

"Why are you so attached to me? I have brought you nothing, but misery," she replies vehemently.

"There is never going to be another you."

"You have lost partners, before."

"You are more than just my partner."

"Am I? I wonder. I can't stay, if nothing changes."

"I bought a ring."

"It's fake."

"Not the point."

"You knew that it was fake?"

"I didn't think that you would say yes. I figured if you did, you would want a different ring, anyway."

"You don't trust your own tastes?"

"The real one, I looked at... was too expensive for you to say no. It was non-returnable."

"Why did you get me a ring? We can't go from this; whatever this is, to that. Not with the snap of the fingers."

"Why not?"

"Because there are so many things, that neither of us..."

"I know. We are notoriously bad at expressing feelings. We give each other looks, instead of talking about things. I know that it takes a toll. I know that it festers. I know that. I want to change that. I know it can't be changed overnight. I don't expect it to be."

"What were you trying to fix, with that ring?"

"I just don't want you to leave."

"And you thought that would work?"

He shrugs, "I don't know. I just thought that you wanted something permanent. I wanted to give you something permanent. I wanted to offer you stability. I wanted you to know, that no matter what, I want you, forever."

"Oh," is all she can manage to get out.

"I can't promise you the world. There are a lot of things, that I am never going to be able to give you. I think that you should know, by now, that I won't make a promise to you, that I can't keep. I'm never going to leave you. You can run, and you can hide. This time, if you leave, I'll follow you. Wherever you go, I will follow you. I refuse to lose you again."

"What was so bad, about losing me?"

He swallows hard, "I finally found someone who understands me."

"I don't understand you."

"Better than anyone else. I found my best friend. When you are gone, I don't know what to do; who to be. When you're gone, it's like a piece of me, is missing too."

"What about the rules?"

"We'll figure it out."

"What if it can't work?"

"We have two options. Try, or, don't. If we do try, we might both end up hurt. We may both end up hating each other. Or we may end up happy. If we don't try, we will both be miserable. We will both regret, not giving it a chance. We'll die, never knowing, what might have been."

"Kiss him!" A voice comes out of nowhere. They look around the room. They look at each other.


	5. Busted

Abby's eyes grow to the size of saucers. She looks over at her partner in crime. He shakes his head.

"Abby, I told you this was a bad idea."

"You installed it," she reminds him.

"But it was all your idea. Where did you ever come up with that idea, anyway?"

"It just came to me."

"It just came to you? Really? One day you were sitting down here, in your lab, and you thought to yourself, gee, wouldn't it be a good idea to put a bug in the men's bathroom? Not just any bug. A bug that is wired into voice recognition software. Voice recognition software, that only reacts to Ziva's voice?"

"No," she shakes her head, "That's not how it happened. I was sitting at lunch. Some guy came out of the bathroom. I didn't mean to listen, but I did. I didn't hear the sink. He didn't wash his hands, which reminded me of Ziva."

"How?"

"She may have mentioned that every time she follows Tony into the bathroom, there is someone else in there. The someone else leaves, and doesn't wash his hands."

"And then you thought that you should install a bug, in the men's bathroom?"

"I just thought that I would like to know, what Tony, and Ziva discuss, when they go into the men's restroom."

"And then?"

"And then I decided that it would be morally reprehensible, to spy on them."

"Mostly because you didn't know how."

"And then you were droning on about a new, highly sophisticated voice recognition software."

"And two plus two equals four, which is how we got to where were are now?"

"Another ten?"

"I'd give it five seconds."

"You think that she'll shoot me?"

"You are the one who put your elbow on the keyboard. And you are the one who said it out loud."

"I know, I know. I broadcast it, to the whole world."

"No, just to me, and the men's bathroom."

She looks at the ground.

"Right, Abby?"

"I may have bugged a couple other bathrooms, and the men's locker room."

"Abby! What if there were people in there?"

"They will be extremely confused. I'm not the only one to blame, here."

"I didn't do anything."

"But you listened. It could be worse."

"How?"

"We could have installed camera's."

"Right," he nods.

"Timmy? Is there something that you want to tell me?"

"I may have installed a camera in the men's bathroom."

"Eew! Gross!"

"It is only activated, when the voice recognition software detects Ziva's voice."

"You mean, we could have been watching them, the whole time?"

"You like to listen. I like to watch."

"Is it live feed?"

"No it's a recorded feed."

"Is the sound enabled on the video?"

"Of course."

"Way to go, McGee," she smacks him on the back of the head.

"What's that for?"

"Now we there is evidence of our crime?"

"Do I want to know?" another voice joins the conversation.

They spin around. The looks on their faces, compare to kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

"Nope, nothing to know here," Abby answers too quickly.

"What are the two of you doing? Do you know where Tony and Ziva are?"

"No," McGee shakes his head.

"McGee, why aren't you in the squad room?"

"I got a text from Abby, she said it was urgent."

"And my other two agents?"

"No comment," Abby answers. She drags her fingers across her lips, to demonstrate that she's zipping them.

Gibbs gives them a look. "I want to see what the two of you are up to."

"I..." McGee chokes.

"Promise you won't be mad," Abby begs.

"Abby," he scolds.

She nods to McGee. He hits a few commands on the computer. Video pops up. Gibbs looks, and then quickly looks away.

"Take it down, I don't need to see that."

"See what?" Abby questions.

Gibbs points to the screen. Abby turns around, and looks at the video. She finds Tony, and Ziva, still in the bathroom.

"At least the sound is on mute," she mistakenly says.

"Sound? There's sound? The two of you knew about this?"

"Boss..." McGee calls after Gibbs, but it's too late. Gibbs boards the elevator, and rides up. The elevator door open, and he gets off. He storms towards the men's restroom. He stops at the door, and bangs on it.

Inside, Tony stops. He looks at Ziva. She looks at him, and smiles. She wipes the lip gloss off his face. She points to his tie. He attempts to re-tie it. He points to her hair, she steps past him, to look in the mirror. She pulls an elastic hair tie out of her pocket. She quickly collects it into a pony tail, trying to conceal the evidence.

Gibbs bangs on the door again. He huffs.

"I'll be out in a second," Tony responds.

"No, you're coming out now!" Gibbs replies, sternly, from the other side of the door.

Tony looks at Ziva, in horror. He shakes his head. "You don't think he knows what was about to..." he begins to whisper.

"No," she shakes her head, "How could he?" she replies in a hushed tone.

"I want the both of you, out here, now."

"I stand corrected," she answers.

"Crap," he takes a step towards the door. He takes a deep breath, and pulls it open.

"Both of you, out here, now!" he barks.

They exit the bathroom, like a pair of scolded puppies, with their tails between their legs.

"I don't think that the director would be happy, if he knew the two of you, were attempting to make porn, in the bathroom."

Tony furrows his brow. "What are you talking about?"

"I am good, but not that good. Abby has the bathroom under surveillance."

"What?"

"It must be voice activated, or something, at least, I hope."

"This is all on tape?"

"Apparently, there is audio, too."

"We can explain," Tony admits.

"I don't want to know. I can see what's in your pocket."

Tony looks down, in confusion. Gibbs shakes his head, and taps the box, in the breast pocket, of his shirt.


End file.
